I don't really like the word blog, but it seems pointless to fight it, Zis is a blog.
If you want to know more about an Algerian girl who lives in London and struggles with thoughts that are beyond the remits of her understanding, stories of society and social climbers of love and deception and of a status of seemingly eternal singlehood, then you are in the right place...

Tuesday, 6 September 2011

Little Algiers N4

My train alights at Finsbury Park station, too absorbed by my book and practicing the ever annoying read & walk, I hear a couple of Algerian guys whinging behind me “jat’ha leqraya hadi”(1) I control my reflex and manage not to turn around and acknowledge their protest or indeed acknowledge I understood what they were saying, I walk on thinking….and so it begins…

What was I doing here again? My mind is mangled with the plotline of my book and it takes me a few seconds to readjust my mind and my bearings, it comes back to me, I am here to view a flat, as I punch in the post code into my Google map I quietly pray it indicates a minimum of 2 miles away, but it doesn’t, it’s showing 0.8 miles to destination to the ghetto more like I thought, dear Lord I have to walk through Black Stock Road, the notorious little Algiers known to all Algerians as the Algerian ghetto and to the police as a hot zone or red, I am not familiar with coppers’ terminology.

So I brace myself, put my sunglasses on, button my shirt up, lower my jacket to hide my curves, I stand in front of a shop window frantically looking at my reflection, trying to alter details to avoid looking remotely attractive, Algerian or interested, I pray to god I walk the length of that road until the moving little blue dot says you are here.

I walk decided, take fast and determined steps, I fix my gaze on the horizon, my phone clenched in my palm, my thumb hurts, I am pressing too hard, my muscles are tense, I feel indignant, why must I feel uneasy and apprehensive walking down little Algiers, surely I wouldn’t have felt the same in big Algiers…

I feel eyes on me, stares, somebody points his chin in my direction to bring his mates attention to me, I continue walking with a firm step and a security about me that is supposed to deter any harmful intentions, after a few hours walking down this road, actual time 3 minutes, I start to feel at ease, I am in Algerian territory here and above all in England, surely I am safe, so I start taking in the surroundings all behind the safety of my shades;

Young men lining the walls all along the road, some in congregations laughing aloud, some in twosomes gesticulating something passionately, I notice the customary position, one leg on the floor and another bent backwards to lean on the wall, not without leaving dirt marks, some huddled around a small box of Chemma (snuff) taking it in turns to put a small dollop onto their upper lips, producing a fat lip that brings back my initial angst; A coffee shop, two tables on the terrace/pavement, five men huddled around a single cup of espresso, passing it to each other in what looks like a very odd coffee ritual, I do a quick survey and count 5 out of 7 fat lips, 3 tracksuits and all wearing trainers, Oh I am sure they have a football game later, they wouldn’t be hanging out in sports gear for no reason…or so I’d hope.

I check my phone quickly as I reach my destination, a beautiful Victorian house, ground floor flat conversion with garden, I curse the Algerians and grudgingly inform the agent that the area is not suitable for me and that I hadn’t checked the location prior to accepting the viewing and for that reason, I am out, I dare not mention that I would refuse to live in this beautiful Victorian house in this “once” lovely area because my “own” people claimed the area and turned into little Algiers.

I wondered if houses around this area were difficult to rent out due to the high concentration of Algerian around and if the property values have decreased for the same reasons, I dare not ask him as I am sure he would not dare comment, but if he did, I wondered if I would take offense or agree…

I resume the 0.8m walk back to the station and make sure to walk on the opposite side of the road, I pass a “patisserie” and couldn’t resist the urge to go in and buy Garantita(2) , the croud of young men gathered aimlessly in the shop all look at me in unison and their loud chatter quickly becomes muffled she is Algerian I felt like I had just walked into Harrods sporting a shell suit with Burberry trainers, I ordered in Algerian attini 2 garantita(3) please so the waiter all smiles proceeds at cutting a huge baguette and starts inserting the pieces of Garantita into it, I assumed it was someone else’s order so I stood there scanning the display of cakes and patisseries from the 90s with think creams and strawberries, do you want harissa khti?(4) I politely decline just the garantitathanks, The waiter shakes his head in disapproval and mutters something under his breath, I look around the other tables, baskets of bread on every table, ahh that love affair Algerians have with bread, I recall seeing a man pick up a piece of bread from the floor, kisses it lightly then puts it on top of a bin or a higher surface from the ground, as an Algerian, witnessing that doesn’t shock me but it makes me smile fondly. Ok I will take the bread khouya (5)

200 yards to the station, I glance over the other side of the road where that single espresso was being turned around like a joint of Hashish, the espresso was still there, I realise there sips didn’t qualify as such, they are barely touching their lips to the glass and making a swift sucking sound to make the pleasure last, I will not pretend to understand this odd phenomenon but I find it highly amusing and couldn’t help but smile inwardly of course – no facial movement when walking down Black stock road.

Back in my neck of the woods, I feel relieved then irritated by my feelings of apprehension in the midst of the Algerian community, where I should feel safe and right at home, but I was safe and it was like being back in Algiers, perhaps a more rough area of Algiers, but Algiers nonetheless, apart from a few stares and harmless albeit annoying whistles my trip to little Algiers was a reminiscent of a trip down Belcourt (6) but I question what deters us from living near little Algiers, or be seen there, is it because of the dodgy antics some of our fellow Algerians are getting up to there and some extremist views or because it reminds us of things we wanted to get away from ourselves

It remains amazing to see how the Algerians in London have claimed their own little area and made it their own and ours even if some of us tend to avoid it like the plague/hate it or snob it, every single Algerian will find him/herself drawn to it at some point in their London life.

Think of it as a tourist attraction the little Algiers of London, full of character and multi-cultral atomsphere that makes London so Unique.

Dz-Chick …she likes her garantita sans Harissa

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(1) Expression to say: She got the urge to read this lass…but it holds a more condescending connotation

(2) Chick pea flour based pizza/flan …yum!

(3) Can I have 2 slices of Garantita

(4) Do you want Chilli paste sis?

(5) My brother- a more polite way of addressing people, I wasnt trying to talk ghetto

Hi dear talented compatriot.. Love your intense writing.. We see everything from the inside, the dz chick's inside... With all the details, the interior monologue, the way you perceive every trivial behaviour.. When I was an angry teenager I was feeling like you were in Little Algiers all the time... Feeling like a stranger, an alien, a weirdo in your homeland is terrible and very common to many Algerians as far as I know.. Years and some wisdom healed me.. But aren't you exagerating a little bit, just for litterary purposes.. Seriously your Little Algeria seems like Kabul, not even Belcourt..

Dear HomoErectus: thank you for the kind observations you make on my writing, it was an intense peice yes but it was all real, lived by me or by someone else Algerian and non-Algerian alike.

I promise you I didn't exagerate one bit, the funny thing is that any Algerian here will tell you I toned it down a LOT :) it's far worse sometimes!You know they actually call it Little Algiers, I didn't make that up

Hey, to answer one of the comments that was made, I know you're not exagerating at all. I act the same when I go through a street that "belongs" to the arab community(especially the algerian community). I, too, have to make sure to hide my curves and avoid eye contact that could be perceived as a provocation. It is worse than being au bled I believe. I totally understand your reluctance of moving in that area. It's not a refusal or a denial of our origins, not at all, we moved from Aleria to other countries to expand and differentiate our horizon after all. But it is always good to go visit these areas when we feel home sick as a "pelerinage" or a remembrance of the reason why we're making the sacrifice of being far from our famillies:)

like you when i see algerians i pull my jacket down to cover the curves and button my shirt up !

i was on the phone to my MUM on the train once there were two algerian men both of them were the lazy type that were looking for a wife to stay at home to cook and clean all day and shut up when they spoke !

i was speaking to my mother in algerian it was during ramadan so i think i was asking what she was doing for eid , and what she would wear for eid and after that the two men didnt take their eyes off me ! i hope i dont come across them again !

I love the story and your writing just so personal and magnetic... lovely to read.

I guess I'm a little surprised by how different it is for you. As you know I live in that area, not too far from it. (Well, my flat is there but I'm away this year.) All the time that I've been there, I've always felt safe, much more so than many other areas of London. So the surprise for me is, I guess, the difference in how women are treated - my understanding is not great as I've never been threatened in any way on the street, not in the way that you (or Blue) suggest.

That realisation is a somewhat sad really.

And now I really wanting to try Garantita. I just google'd it to try to figure out what it is, and it looks like 'hoe cakes' (except they're made from corn flour and corn meal.)

Just wanted to see why my comments are not reaching you neither the blog...as maybe I wrote 5 or 6 comments and none appears here...if there is any problem with what I write plz let me know.ThanksDZ-Cheikh.

PS: don't worry i am thousand and thousand miles away from that geographical location.

@Formosa N7: Thank you :)I guess you would be surprised as a guy, but it's a reality we live with as Algerian women!

I do hope you get to try the garantita, I looove it

@ Sode: yeah it's really about curves and butts

@Dz-Cheikh: this is the 1st comment I rceived since my last post, I would never block any comment unless u called me somthing nasty! :) please make sure you actually posted them, I look forward to reading your comments.

To Formosa,I never said I was threatened; I feel scrutinized, judged, and envaded in my personal space that is myself. It is I think the way men in our culture look at women...in adoration and desire that makes me unconfortable. Do we have to get used to it an move on? do we have any choice after all? well, it is an open debate!!!

DZ-Chick...dont get an overdose of Garantita!...or things will get so ..lets say chemical!I remember like today, the first thing I did ages ago, once I went home (Algiers) in summer...was to go get a Garantita Sandwich as soon as I arrived to Algiers...few hours only after I arrived...it was sublime that time...now I dont mind....I adapted Iam wiser and like other things maybe!

DZC: Glad it wasnt you who was blocking my comments...might be a technical problem then!

Now back to your new post...you got me I was waiting for something about Libya...and then you get us with Little Algiers...or Little Algeria...well let me tell you I like it, and you remind me of the times I went look around in that area when i felt a bit nostalgic to Algiers...Anyway, what strikes in your writing is the way you have the double antinomic feelings...of being afraid and some how "dont like" the Algerian man...but also your unstoppable desire to have your Algerian man!...quite interesting....I told you that I am analyzing this!....wait for Analyzing that then!Ara zouke GArantita kho! sahayte! ;)

@blue. I see what you mean, yes there is a big difference. I was on the underground in Beijing this morning and an old guy on the train kept staring at me, I suppose the oddity and exotic experience of seeing a Westerner using the local public transport. But he kept staring, sort of a hostile look like I was about to take his daughter and corrupt her in the decadent ways of the West. I stared back for a bit but that didn’t help. I tried to ignore it but knew it was still going on. It occurred to me just how easily this unknown person had managed to slip past my defences, get under my skin and occupy my thoughts. Since I’m telling you this, his stare has penetrated even further.

From a male perspective, I have to admit your observations. I, too, ogle. It is a built in function of the male brain, located right next to the cortex thing that controls the breathing apparatus and our compulsion to vegetate on a sofa with a beer in our underwear watching football. I’ve been informed, by reliable sources, that apparently also women will occasionally ogle. However, it all comes down to technique: how not to make people uncomfortable, the difference between a soft sideways glance at the outsider and a ‘get off my train and keep your hands off my daughter’ stare. Answer to your question about to get used to it or move on? If you let the man with the stare inside your head who suffers – him or you?

This is all an intresting outlook Dz-chick. Girls I don't understand why you hide yourselves from these guys on the street. We are in Europe, if someone approch you in a nasty way, you simply decline or call the police. And no more drama. Dz-chick I hope you will provide us with a slight introduction into Algerian cusine very soon. Look forward to it :) @ Amal, well I wpuld like to hear more on how you estimate your country fellows, what means for you a "lazy type of Algerian man" and how you tell the diffrence from one another :)

@ Irulana: We don't hide from Algerians men.There are 2 types (or more) present here in the UK and all over world, the ones who hang out in the streets, smoking, eyeing up every women who walks by, synchro sipping coffee and generally up to no good, dodgy lazy...u name it, who give Algerians a bad name as well, and then there is the normal type who work, pay bills and taxes and have a totally normal life like yours and mine...whatever normal means!

So, we do not hide from them, we avoid them...and this is not just about Algerians, I am sure you don't go hang out in the dodgy parts of your city where all the loosers/thiefs or people you deemed "uniteresting" to you or where you'd feel uncomfortable. well it's the same thing for us...

As for the Algerian Cuisine, you gonna wait a loooong time if you count on me! I know there are a few DZ Culinary blogs out there that are quite good. I am quite useless at cooking.

I always liked Algerian men, I am Algerian, it would be weird not to like them! I have wonderful men in my family and as friends and think highly of them all, but unfortunately there is always a bad apple somewhere, when I say what I say about Dz men, I don't mean to snob, insult or ruine dz "reputation" as they say, I am merely stating facts, everyBODY knows the Algerians are nottorious ...in Europe and the around the world really, we love them for it and it's funny at times but when it goes against the consensus and our values as a nation, family or community then there they are to be shuned/avoided or ignored...which is what some of us do.

And you know: I am not 100% on the ALgerian man either....shan't say more!

Dz-chick, well now is plain enough. Don't forget to mention about these who pretend to be French in order to fool naive European ladies ;-))) By French I meant following certain heritage, culture ( non muslim), customs not just citizenship. Algerian male have a very bad reputation and I often wondered why. I am aware of all this bogus marriages, visa and money scams but it happened to me to meet few Algerian men who pretended to be Maroccan or Tunisian. What's wrong with them? Do they have criminal records back home or simply feel superior fooling around? As for cooking, to paraphrase Oscar Wild's thought " It's better to have a permanent income then to be fascinating ( or to be good chef)", sounds good for me;-)))

what are you waiting for to learn some basic cooking skills? don't give me feminist crap about women and cooking, hell even i'm a decent cook ... my best inspirations come at work when i basically get a vision of what i should make, then i mull it over a bit debating on the choice of ingredients. sometimes i get home and can't be bothered but at other times when the vision materialises, it's some proper foodgasm!

I am a lazy cook, I will never follow a recipe properly and more often than not, I won't have the ingredients, I used to be OK actually, I lost my cooking skills, I blame it on PMS, no my EX, no no PMS!

Foodgasm? you? is this fantasy or reality? just admit it man, you're as shit as I am.

@Irulana: sorry to disappoint you but what I knew before is that Moroccans and Tunisians would say they are algerians...and also it's easy to blame and say Algerian male have a bad reputation, but I think which ever nationality you name there is bad and good...so let's say maybe you always went for the wrong type!...

"turning around something (one) who is not dz"?? so that translates to raki douri dwahed machi dz? or raki douri m3a wahda machi dz?? Whichever your version, it's: not realy and it's not a new thing, that side of my life remains private.

Actually, what is new for me is DZ not the other way around...Again I shan't say more.

It seems there might be a PAR-TEE happening, and Funky Buddha, the original Par-tee AneeMal, was not sent an engraved and gilted invitation. I have been slighted, and my image damaged. As a consequence, I will be a very rude guest here :)

@Dz- prince, you are not dissapointing me pet. My question still stands though ;-))I can say in my enitre life I met : a. one full time Algerian bastard, b. few little vicious trollops both sex c. whole bunch of warm, friendly, selfless people from Dz :D

@Funky Buddha, I am Polish and that should stands for whole mentioned above. Thanks God, he granted me some serenity ;-) As for love, I bet there are plenty fish in a sea. Black tea is served as per suggestion :)@Dz-chik, guys share you knowledge and if there is anything in arabic I should be aware of, pls translate. Blond bimbo doesn't mean neccesarly uneducated one ;-)

My heart fails, my soul dies, my body is as nothingness, only the sacrf thoughts of my beloved goddess now lives. Only by the destroying embrace of my beloved shall I be consoled, my heart aches terribly, and my body is on fire. O my dearest, where art thou? Chanfara...

Dear Irulana, taking advantage of you would be nothing short of a celestial sport attentively watched by the gods. Too, mouth waters at the thought of it. A wholly delicious polish bimbo whose parts were especially made for me to savor. My dear, being eaten alive is such a once in a life-time experience. If it were not for the fact that I love Dz chick and my life(which she would take in a heart beat if i do her wrong), you would be thaught lessons in love that would leave you electrified and speechless for the rest of your life. There are zombies about attesting to that truth...

@Funky Buddha, well, does your ego-dollars account has only incremental rates ;-))) Please be less dramatic and more to the point:-))) The joy of being eaten alive usually ends up with a sentence " too many men, too little time" LOL. @Dz-chick looks like you've got a secret admirer with rather twisted state of mind however noble and celestail and not into mind games :-)Irreversible power of attraction, I am impressed :-))) LOL

Funky Buddha is really a night in shining armour from byzantine time stuck in present time Algeria or whatever he is, I would oblige him in some female flirtation but I am not into drama (not that kind anyway) I am straight to the point and don't beat about the bush.

Dear Irulana, I am for civility's sake going to assume that you are breath-takingly beautiful. Therefore, it would be inhtman of me to take over a verbal knee and turn your derriere into a flaming djahanam(hell). That is, of course, assuming that you are not a sadistic papicha out to be brutalized. For the time, my dear, I'll keep the whip, the leash, and the chair in their proper place. wink

My beloved, my darling, my prized possession to be...Allow me to formally introduce meself: I am indeed a legendary warlock, and you are a ravishingly beautiful lady in waiting. You need wait no longer. Your knight is here to carry you away on his mighty steed. My castle is yon, and its gold-gilt bed is prepared for us. We must make haste. My desire for my lady, co-ruler of my realm, is running over, and a silvery stream is forming in my wake. Come MY beloved, let us be off, NOW.

@Funky Buddha, what is wrong with being sadists. It's less charming the to be a patological liar running multiple agendas :-) Funky....you better switch to Mynt Longue and if you'll Romain Zago somewhere around tell him I am coming over with da girls sometime soon. I bet he will honour your efforts with 100 bugs voucher to a worldclass entertainment. @ Dz-chick, please consider specific needs of our new comer and give him some space on your blog to produce his petulant, pretentious and shoddy poetry. I would presume it's cheaper then a regular psychodynamic psychoteraphy. I know you are generous! :-)

Irulana: how long did you date ur Algerian ex exactly to be abe to write such a sentence? :)

Funjy Buddha: ok let's be off....do you have a plan? or we just ganna hang out in your castle? I have many wants: I want a game of human chess, a giant telescope, my own island, 5 maids...BUTyou watch it as when I am queen, it'll be OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!

@Irulana. Stop flirting. If you want to make love just say so. I know a lovely, isolated mountain challet, just ideal for new found love, and all the pleasurable exploring that entails. Your humble servant offers his assistance to the lady. But it will have to be stricly platonic since my goddess, Dz chick, might be offended if there were anything else occuring. I must somehow remain faithfull to her since she will one day be my beloved WIFE...

@Funky Buddha, ok, why did you get rid off a liitle cherry on the cake promptly ;-) Fair enough I stop flirting, LOL :-)I am honred to foster such love. Dz chick, I happy to hand over keys to my NY condo in order to make your times far much more presurable. You both should defo enjoy a bit of Big Apple. Not challet or what-so-ever out of spotlights ;-)

I just stumbled upon your blog, and really loved your writing. witty and very funny. I cried from laughter reading your walk anecdote through black stock road. I once lived in London and I've seen the community raising. We (Algerians) were very few at that time and Finsbury park was the starting point to many of us (harragas), help was always around the corner from black stock road, if you were in need of anything you'd always find a compatriot ready to assist you. And then things changed and the community got bigger. La ((caillera)) started flooding the zone and it all got screwed for us.

The famous Blackstock Road, the humiliation of the Algerian community in London! Oftentimes my Algerian brothers do not recognise me as one of them, some have doubts.... but I cruise incognito most of the time! Blackstock Road reminds me of Barbes in Paris and just like in Barbes I was verbally abused and even threatened for two different reasons. In Barbes I happened to be eaten a pain au chocolat openly during ramadan about 17 years ago, maybe not a smart move, subsequently a harraga followed me all the way to the station spitting out curses that I barely understood but my beloved aunt refrained from translating and preventing me from confronting the idiot that was threatening to cut my throat!! Fast forward 15 years on in London, I decided to go on Blackstock Road to buy zlabiya during ramadan, I went with a male Caribbean friend. It all went smoothly until I came out of a shop and shouted out 'maslama' to the guy that served me. Algerians on this street congregate in small gangs, one member heard me and shouted something out in Arabic to a small group further up the road. As my friend and I walked past the latter mentioned group, I overhear a guy saying in a very bad French 'il ne manquerait plus que ca les arabes et les noirs maintenant'. My Algerian blood started boiling and I gave him my middle finger as a way of acknowledging his narrow minded statement. The idiot went ballistic and started cursing. My 6ft2 martial art expert friend was ready to rumble but I had to explain to him that these guys are Algerians and they might eat him for breakfast....after slicing him into pieces that is. We managed to make it out of that street with the moron was still in tow spitting out the vilest vocabulary. I tell my friend he is now free to do what he wants with him and my stupid countryman backs down and crawls back in his hole: Blackhole Road or did I mean Blackstock Road?? Ironically one of my previous lecturers, an English lawyer, who lives near Blackstock Road seem to love going to the coffee shop and found my fellowmen very friendly, I thought about telling him to check his pockets before leaving any of those coffee shops but I refrained! DZ-chick, the fact that they are Algerians is no the issue but the mere fact that they are scumbags is. Please keep in mind I am generalising so please guys don't get too irate!

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